


Half a paper crane is not enough

by Lady_Tragedy



Series: One thousand paper cranes [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Confession, M/M, Mentions of self-harm, Origami, Really guys if you expect fluff this is not for you, like read my username, not too triggering but enough to be relatable, one thousand paper cranes, there's a murdered paper crane in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7904458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Tragedy/pseuds/Lady_Tragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew that this was stupid. Folding one thousand paper cranes in less than a month (that was the time he had before graduation) was beyond his abilities, and even if it wasn’t, Oikawa knew that hoping for something as ridiculous as a piece of origami (or one thousand of them) to actually make Iwa-chan fall in love with him so he’d choose to go to the same university as him, was completely useless. As in, there was no way in hell Iwaizumi Hajime ended up being gay for his best-friend.<br/>Or was it?<br/>*Edited because of beta-review*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half a paper crane is not enough

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody!! This came to me tonight and I couldn't stop writing until it was finished, so I really hope you like it!
> 
> This one is inspired in the actual murder of one of my paper cranes (it happened exactly as told in the story), and since I still don't know who killed my crane, it remains a mistery here too. And I ask for forgiveness in advance because this broke my heart a little, I'm sorry guys :(
> 
> Now go, read! Enjoy :3

Having a crush was, in Tooru’s very personal opinion, one of the most stressfull things in life.

 

It made him be clumsier than usual, limbs flailing all over the place whenever his crush was close. It also reduced his observational skills (which meant bad news for his team, mind you), given that he tended to space out while staring at his crush’ perfectly handsome face (and that had already earned him a few scolding commentaries from his teachers and couch). But worst of all, it made him believe stupid things.

 

And it made him believe them so strongly that he, the Great Oikawa Tooru, was acting supidly as a consequence.

 

He knew that _this_ was stupid. Folding one thousand paper cranes in less than a month (that was the time he had before graduation) was beyond his abilities, and even if it wasn’t, Oikawa knew that hoping for something as ridiculous as a piece of origami (or one thousand of them) to actually make Iwa-chan fall in love with him so he’d choose to go to the same university as him, was completely useless. As in, there was no way in hell Iwaizumi Hajime ended up being gay for his best-friend.

 

Or was it?

 

He couldn’t loose anything by trying, right?

 

_Right?_

 

* * *

 

 

Well, as it turned out, he could. 

 

Oikawa was sitting outside his classroom, long lengs spread out on the hallway, not caring for the people passing by on the hallway. People looked up to him so much that they let him do as he pleased most of the time (except for Iwa-chan, of course, but he was special), and clearly Oikawa would make the best out of it for as long as he could, sue him.

 

Resting the back of his head against the wall, Oikawa let his chin dip down a bit to let the sunlight do its job, framing his face with what would look like artistic shadows in the pictures he knew his fans were taking. He even caught a glimpse of the flash from a professional camera.

 

 _My, my, how dedicated, --_ Oikawa thought, pleased in some twisted way of being so pretty that someone deigned it necessary to acquire a pro camera _just_ for snapping pictures of _him_. — _Iwa-chan should wake up already and see just how precious I am._

 

Oikawa's mind halted to a stop, and then he smiled bitterly, reflexive look in his eyes. The words he had just thought disgusted him to no end, and he didn’t understand why exactly he had thought them. Maybe Iwa-chan was right and vanity was eating him up, along with whatever humility he had had before becoming the handsome lady’s-man character he impersonated since entering high-school.

 

A slight grimace darkened his features when a peregrine thought crossed his mind, making him curl his fingers in a tight fist inside his pants pockets (so no one would notice). Oikawa snapped his tongue against his perfectly white teeth.

 

_That’s exactly why Iwa-chan will never like you._

 

An unsettling feeling in his gut made him curl on the floor, retracting his knees to his chest and hugging them with clawed fingers that digged painfully in his skin.

 

Oikawa knew he had to control himself, at least until he was out of the public eye, but thoughts like this one had become more and more frequent as time passed by, and it was more painful the closer he got to the graduation day. Sometimes the thoughts were unbearable, and Oikawa had gotten to scratch at his chest and upper tighs to calm the anxiety.

 

He didn’t mean to, but he did it anyway. It helped him feel better, and he didn’t need to rely on anyone (read, Iwaizumi Hajime) to do it. For once in his life, he was trying to solve his problems on his own, without resorting to the people who usually comforted and guided him throught the dark. And Tooru knew it was _wrong_ , but he also knew that scratching his chest bloody was the only thing that could hush the bad feelings away.

 

He was alone in this horrible hell that was having a crush on his best-friend, and there was no one to help him out. Furthermore, Tooru thought it was about time to stop depending on other people. They were not going to be there for him all the time.

 

 _You mean_ Iwa-chan _won’t be there for you all the time, right, Tooru?_ –a mean voice in his head said: -- _What you really meant is that he’s gonna go away as soon as he can now that you can’t follow hi_ _m to college, and he’s going to do so because you can’t even gather enough courage to confess your feelings. Instead, you’re conveniently loosing your time folding stupid paper cranes every time you_ remember _what you’re supposed to do._

 

 Tooru’s nails clawed at his skin slightly harder before standing up abruptly and walking to the restroom with long, harsh strides. He kept his face neutral, picturing big metal walls raising within his mind to stop his feelings from showing on his appeareance in any way. He even flashed a few discreet poster-model-like smiles to the girls he encountered on the hallway, forcing his mind to work on autopilot until he found a place where he could manage his emotional meltdown more efficiently.

 

Inside the bathroom stall, Oikawa let himself sink on the toilet basin, pulling his pants down while doing a quick mental review of how many days the scratches would last and how much skin he could scratch if he missed practice for the next two days.

 

 _Why don’t you scratch down a bit more?_ –the voice intervened again. – _If you use those knee pads mom bought last month no one would notice even if you scratched your knees..._

 

Tooru bit his lips, temptation dancing in front of is eyes in the form of pale skin and toned muscle. Scratch more... Maybe if he did that, then–

 

“Shittykawa! Oi, are you in there?!” Iwaizumi’s gruffy, richly deep voice echoed on the tiles of the boy’s restroom. “I swear to _God_ Oikawa, if you’re on Facebook instead of taking a shit _I will kill you_.”

 

Oikawa’s hands retracted from his skin as if burned. If Iwa-chan knew what he was doing in there, those death threats were going to become real, really quick.

 

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help it when his fingers found the tender skin of his back ribs under his shirt, and kept a constant pressure as he replied with a strained voice:

 

“Iwa-chan, can’t a man have a momment of peace on the throne? One would say Iwa-chan’s mom had raised his child to be better than that.” Imprinting a slight sing-song tune to his voice, Oikawa hid the groan (of pain or pleasure, he wasn’t sure) elicited by the nails cutting open his skin. He could feel the indentations he had caused on himself by brushing his fingertips over them, and a feeling of accomplishment was already washing over him as a protecting shield. Oikawa felt as if nothing could hurt him now, or at least not more than what he had already hurt himself.

 

As always, Iwaizumi’s voice interrupted his train of thought: “Oh, don’t you _your-mom-raised-you-better_ me, Trashykawa. Get out of there already so we can go back to the classroom. The professor is absent so we have some free time to talk, if you want.”

 

It was the hesitant tone in Iwa-chan’s voice what made Tooru reply with a simple “Sure” and proceed to readjust his garments with fast, steady fingers. There was a speck of red under one of his nails, but Oikawa simply licked it off before flushing the toilet and opening the stall door.

 

Narrowing his eyes at him, Iwa-chan scolded him as soon as Oikawa reached the sink. “Don’t lick your fingers before washing your hands, asshole. That’s gross.”

 

“Iwa-chan, you’re such a mom.” Oikawa snapped back, no real bite in his voice. He couldn’t really snap at Iwa-chan, being the love-sick fool he was.

 

Iwaizumi merely punched his left arm and exited the restroom after throwing a half-hearted disgusted glare towards Oikawa. Tooru looked at his reflection in the mirror once more to reassure himself that his face had the appropriate expression, and then went out to join Iwa-chan.

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, what’s this and why the fuck are you so worked up?”

 

Oikawa simply kept staring at his desk, chest heavy and thoughts a complete mess.

 

There, lying on his blue notebook, was a tiny sand-brown paper crane neatly cut in half. The murder weapon, a pair of lime green scissors ( _Oikawa’s_ scissors), had been put next to the crane in a clearly declarative fashion.

 

 _Yes, I cut your paper crane with your scissors, and **I don’t care**._ That’s the message Oikawa got by looking at the crime scene. He still couldn’t believe it.

 

He hadn’t even been working with that colour of cranes for the past week. The ones he was doing now were blue, Aoba Josai kind of blue. _And_ , he was sure he had only worked on the damned cranes when no one was around.

 

There was no way anyone knew he kept all his cranes hidden in the pencil case under his desk. _He_ had made _sure_ of it. Emphazise on the _he_ as in him, Oikawa Tooru, the Great King (he secretly repited the nickname that Karasuno’s tiny middle-blocker had given him because hell, was it cool).

 

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi’s hand on his shoulder blades (yes, both of them, he had such big hands) startled him enough that both the scissors and the murdered crane fell to the floor. ”Are you okay?”

 

 In the down curve of Iwa-chan’s lips Oikawa read his signal to break a flashing grin and say “Yes, absolutely.”

 

He didn’t do that.

 

Instead, he crouched down to pick up both halfs of the little paper crane, observing the tiny _151_ he had scribbled with pen on its right wing. Confusion and befuddlement seemed to be strong enough for him to stay down until Iwaizumi crouched down next to him, and spoke with the softest voice Oikawa had ever heard him use:

 

“Hey... What is it? Does that thing means something?”

 

Oikawa looked up, and found Iwa-chan’s olive green (or were they maroon?) eyes looking intently at him. Oikawa stopped breathing for a second, entranced with the close-up view of his best-friends face, his ace’s beautiful features, his crush’s eyes directing him this tender, attentive gaze.

 

How much time had he spent waiting for a look like that to come his way? How many times had he wished for Iwa-chan to speak to him with that tone?

 

Oikawa couldn’t count them. He couldn’t remember that, but he did know how many times he had wished to have a chance, an opportunity to tell everything he had been bottling in for the past three years. He had wished one-hundred and sixty-eight times for it, that’s the last number he had scribbled on a paper crane.

 

 _Don’t. I’m scared_. –the voice in his head said, thinner and lower than it had ever been. Tooru knew that _that_ whispery sound wouldn’t last too long, and that the voice (his mind) was probably just waiting for the right time to stop the words from falling out of his mouth by unleashing a string of loud memories (of failure and dreadful experiences) that ultimately would convince him of how worthless a creature he was.

 

Tooru drew a deep breath, eyes fixed on Iwa-chan. Guiltily, Oikawa used his friend’s presence as an emotional support yet again, even though this time Iwa-chan didn’t know what exactly was he encouraging Oikawa to do, and therefore he didn’t knew this might be the last time he did it.

 

“I like you.”

 

The words left his throath like a breath, a whisper loud enough to be heard by Iwa-chan clearly, but low enough for no one else to hear.

 

Iwaizumi’s eyes simply widened, his whole body stiff as if he had become a stone sculpture. There was no recoil when Oikawa lifted his right hand to brush cold fingers over Iwa-chan’s forehead and hair, his touch so light that Hajime had to blink a few times before admitting its existence by mere observation.

 

Oikawa’s face was set in a deadly serious expression, eyes stormy with the maremagnum of feelings that revolved inside him, and Iwaizumi understood how important this was for him.

 

His chest ached when he spoke again, voice adequately low but not aknowledging the presence of their classmates in any other way. “How long?”

 

Tooru clenched his fists again, small grimace twisting his lips. “Three years. And before you even ask, I'll tell you that I’ve been a coward for so long because I didn’t want to loose your friendship.”

 

Iwaizumi looked at his friend, truly _looked_ at him, and he asked himself how could he have not noticed earlier. Now that he knew, it seemed all so clear to him... The constant touches, the mood-swings, his permanent lack of relationships despite the amount of confessions... Even the jokes.

 

Reaching a hand to take one of Oikawa’s in his, Iwa-chan picked up the scissors with his spare hand and put them back on the desk, trying to gain some time to phrase his ideas correctly. “And the paper crane? What was that for?”

 

Oikawa casted his eyes on the floor, shame burning his face and pain constricting his throat until his voice was reduced to a whisper. “I’ve been folding paper cranes because I wanted to make a _senbazuru_.” Feeling the firm squeeze Iwa-chan gave to his still fisted hand, Oikawa knew without looking that Hajime had the tell-me-the-whole-story look on, so he resigned himself to the opprobium and elaborated: “I wanted to make a wish. I wish... I was gonna wish for you to return my feelings.”

 

Iwaizumi bit his lips, not wanting to say anything he could regret later. He knew what he had to do. That didn’t mean it didn’t pain him to no end.

 

“Oikawa.” Green eyes (they were clearly green, he could see now) locked with his, a strange expression hidden behind them. “Come here.”

 

That was all the warning Oikawa had before Iwaizumi Hajime pulled him into the warmest, tightest embrace he had ever had in his life. A few gasps filled the surprised silence that fell over the classroom, and some girls were heard squealing or squeaking high-pitched ‘I knew it’s at the sight that presented itself before them.

 

Oikawa didn’t care. His heart was leaping out of his chest, nose filled with Iwaizumi’s warm, citrusy cologne, arms tightly encircled around his wide torso and fingers groping at the fabric of the white shirt for dear life. A million emotions washed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to set him off balance and send him barreling towards a deep, dangerous abysm.

 

 _This_ was what he had been hoping for. The only thing he had ever wanted so badly in his life (after volleyball, of course), and now he had it, and he hadn’t even had to finish that stupid senbazuru, who would’ve thought–

 

 “Im sorry,” were the words that left Iwaizumi’s mouth. “I can’t return your feelings.”

 

The abysm opened right under Oikawa’s feet, and despite being held so hard by such strong arms, he felt like he was falling, falling down and down inside the biggest and blackest hole of the Universe. His fingers curved again into claws, this time digging at Iwa-chan’s shoulder blades, for support or to punish him, Oikawa couldn't tell.

 

“Why?” Oikawa choked out, uncapable of lifting his head from Iwaizumi’s shoulder to at least look at him in the eye.

 

With a sigh, Iwa-chan squeezed Tooru close one more time (the last time) before softly but firmly pushing him back, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Because I’m not gay, or at least I don’t think I am. And because you’re my best friend, you have been since we were like five. And...” Iwaizumi stopped himself there. There was no need to be cruel about it. “I just... don’t like you that way. I’m sorry Oikawa.”

 

“That’s not what you were going to say, Iwa-chan.” Was Oikawa’s cold, sharp response. The few classmates that remained in the room (most of them had left to “give the guys some privacy”) scurried away after hearing Oikawa’s killer tone. No need to stay when things were obviously gonna get bad  _soon_.

 

* * *

 

 

Iwa-chan sucked a breath and stood up, blinking away the white sparks dancing in front of his eyes after standing up so abruptly. He could already feel his temper building in his stomach, and he wanted to avoid Oikawa’s provocations as much as possible. The last thing they needed was for Iwaizumi to fall into Tooru’s hurtful defense and start yelling at him.

 

“What I was going to say was completely unnecessary, and it wasn’t true, so I chose not to say it. You’ve always said it’s better that way, right Tooru?”

 

By the way Oikawa’s hazel eyes hardened at that, Iwa-chan knew that _this_ had not been the best of times to use such familiar treatment. Maybe he had hurt Oikawa’s feelings by rejecting him and then calling him by his given name...?

 

Oikawa stood up slowly, straightening his back to flaunt his full height. “As if a brute like you understood what ‘unnecessary’ really means.” The bite in his voice traveled directly to Iwaizumi’s chest, and it settled there like a knife in butter. “Really, Iwa-chan, there’s no need for you to try so hard. I can understand your brutish jargon well enough, after all these years.”

 

Iwaizumi clenched his fists. _Don’t listen to him. He’s hurt and that’s why he’s saying these things. He doesn’t really mean them._

 

No matter how much he unclenched and clenched his fists to relieve the urge to punch Oikawa’s pretty face, the pang of his words wouldn’t leave. Iwaizumi stared in silence, daring him to make the next move.

 

Meanwhile, Oikawa felt restless. He wanted to run out of this stupid school and see how many avenues he could cross before a car ran over him. He wanted to scream and curl on the floor, and tear his hair off until his head became a bloody, painful mess. He wanted to puke, and to pin Hajime against the wall and kiss him senseless.

 

He does none, instead letting his mind work on autopilot and watching in horror how the harder he fights to keep his iron walls up, the most he hurts Iwa-chan. He’s feeling his mind melting down and he’s scared because he doesn’t know how to handle his friend’s rejection, his non-said words.

 

Oikawa doesn’t even know what he’s been saying until he hears Iwaizumi roar.

 

“FOR FUCKS SAKE, OIKAWA!!” And Oikawa would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared, because Iwaizumi’s voice cut through the nebula of his mind like a thunder and left him shaken, open. Expectant.

 

Sad.

 

Iwaizumi felt sad. And angry too, really angry, because that air-head didn’t know when to shut the fuck up. He felt his self-control flying out the window along with his hopes to keep their friendship undamaged.

 

_Well, it’s my turn now, Shittykawa. Let’s see how you deal with having all your shit thrown back to you._

 

“You want the truth?! Okay fine, here you go! You’re a pampered, over-grown wimp who wouldn’t make it a day without me. You whine the whole day, every day of every single fucking week, and you annoy all the people that dare to talk to you for longer than a week. Your looks may be good, but you’re no more than a vain pretty face masking an awful human being. You used to be an interesting, amazing boy who fought for his dreams, but ever since you crossed paths with Kageyama you obsession with volleyball has become a pitiful part of your life!!”

 

Iwaizumi stood his ground, head up to face Oikawa’s surprised face, ignoring the suspicious glistening in his eyes in favor of continuing the rant he hadn’t known he could give but that couldn’t stop now. He felt so, _so_ fed up. So tired. Disappointed.

 

 “And, you know?” A dry laugh left his mouth. “This is exactly the reason why I can’t return your feelings. You don’t know anything about dealing with what you feel, let alone how anyone alse but you would feel! Who would want someone like that in their lives? You’re awful.”

 

 _No,_ \--Iwaizumi thought. – _That’s not true. He’s not like that... Why am I saying this?_

 

Oikawa felt as if someone had punched the air out of him. The mean voice in his head had been silenced by Iwaizumi’s yelling, and the truth behind the venomous phrasing of his rant left Tooru breathless.

 

 _He’s right. Not about everything, but he’s..._ –Thoughts swirled within his mind, barely making sense. – _My feelings... The scratches... That’s not... That can’t be_ good _._

 

As if a boulder had been placed on his shoulders, Oikawa bent forwards, hands to his chest in a protective fashion. An object fell from his now loose hands, landing at his feet.

 

Both him and Iwa-chan followed the movement of the object until they recognized it at the same time. There, crumpled in a ball, was the crane that had been cut in half in an act of anonimous vandalism.

 

The reason their “conversation” had even started.

 

 _Don’t do it Iwa-chan_ –Oikawa prayed silently. – _If you don’t say anything, then there’s still hope..._

 

Oikawa looked up in time to see Iwaizumi’s face harden, a revengeful glint in his eyes. He later wondered if the slump of his shoulders had been evident to Iwa-chan or if he had managed to keep his composture. Not that it mattered any more, anyway.

 

What could his image matter after Iwaizumi’s last words right before leaving the classroom?

 

“And one more thing, Oikawa.” He leaned down and gracefully picked up the sand-coloured paper ball before throwing it his way. “Next time you should remember. If you plan on making a wish, half a paper crane is not enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for this one!! Nevertheless, know that it will have a direct continuation, probably in another one-shot because of reasons, so stay tuned! ~(¬u¬)~  
> As always, I invite you all to check my other stories and blablabla, do it if you have nothing better to do! 
> 
> Kudos and *comments* are VERY much appreciated <3


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